


bigger than these bones

by wordbending



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Past Child Abuse, Recovery, Self-Harm, Slurs, Transphobia, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24772897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending
Summary: There was still a part of you that you didn’t show. A part of you that made wounds deeper than any you could have made physically, a part of you that no source of comfort could soothe, a part of you that had only become worse and worse with time.It was your own voice, in your own head.------If nobody will punish Chara, they will punish themselves.
Relationships: Alphys & Chara (Undertale), Chara & Undyne (Undertale), Chara/Asriel Dreemurr/Frisk
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	bigger than these bones

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [what lingers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9631739) by [valety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valety/pseuds/valety). 



> _I sat alone, in bed till the morning  
>  I'm crying, "They're coming for me"  
> And I tried to hold these secrets inside me  
> My mind's like a deadly disease_
> 
> _I'm bigger than my body  
>  I'm colder than this home  
> I'm meaner than my demons  
> I'm bigger than these bones_
> 
> _Control - Halsey_
> 
> Please mind the tags. This fic deals explicitly and frankly with self-harm (both physical and mental), slurs, child abuse, mental illness, references to past attempts at suicide, and transphobia. It is a hopeful, optimistic fic, but also very open about Chara's background and their mental state, as well as those of other characters.

Everyone knows you have scars. You _want_ everyone to know you have scars. You wear the scars all over your body like badges of honor, not bothering to hide them like you did when you were so much younger. You don’t even put bandages on yours, like the veritable rainbow that is Frisk’s body, or the ones that Asriel uses even though he won’t admit to why. The knife cuts and fingernail scratches and silverware stab wounds and razor marks and God even knows what else that cross all along your arms and down your legs, like morbid tic tac toe games, stand against your pale skin as if to scream “I am here, and despite everything, I am alive.”

You didn’t hurt yourself as much anymore, and not nearly as badly. It comforts you to scratch your fingernail down your skin until it bleeds, even to this day - the reality of the pain makes sense of a world that often doesn't. It feels real. But there had once been times when Asriel had been your comfort, and now there were times when Frisk could be your comfort alongside him.

When you’d got this new body, it could have had no scars at all. But you’d specifically requested to have your skin look the way it did before. You refused to ever hide what you are. What you’d done.

But there was still a part of you that you didn’t show. A part of you that made wounds deeper than any you could have made physically, a part of you that no source of comfort could soothe, a part of you that had only become worse and worse with time... because, if the world would not punish you for what you had done, you would punish yourself.

It was your own voice, in your own head.

Words and words upon words. A half-dozen violent, horrible slurs, aimed at your sexuality, aimed at your identity, gendering you against your will, targeting your mental illnesses, your disabilities, everything. All the things that people had said to you, taught you that you were - _manipulative, cruel, sick._ There was no end to it, as if the world had found every cruel thing people could say with their tongues and impaled you with every single one of them.

But most of all, there was the word that had been said a thousand times, in a thousand voices, until it coalesced and congealed into only yours...

_Demon._

The words were like bile, but unlike bile, they came out too fast to swallow down. Whenever you were alone even for a second, whenever you slept, whenever you had a single thought of the things you’d done and the things you’d said and the people who had shoved every one of these words into every part of your body, the words poured out. It was like there was an alien living inside you, waiting for its opportunity to slither out of your mouth, even if it was going to rip you in half in the process.

You had a therapist, a shark monster, who understood you better than any human therapist ever could. But even he didn’t understand this. He suggested that you work on your “self-talk,” to say positive things about yourself, to break the habit of saying those horrible things. Eventually, he said, the positive things would replace the bile.

Your therapist was an idiot. As if you could think of a single positive thing about yourself to say. As if every single thing you could even so much as try to come up with wouldn’t sound completely false and hollow even to your own ears. As if focusing for even a single moment on who you were as a human being wasn’t trying to put out a fire with gasoline.

So what you did was stuff it down, stuff it deep into yourself, as deep as it would go. It was not unlike capturing an amorphous mass in a little jar and then burying it in a six-foot pit. Oh, yes, it would always break out of the jar, and it would always dig its way out of the pit. But, as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

And that worked, to a degree. You distracted yourself with good books, and with bad books, and with mindless video games, and with gardening, and with Asriel, and with Frisk. And that kept the jar buried, for the most part. Until you tried to sleep, and you had to sleep. Then your own thoughts would flay you, torture you, sauté you, with all the glee of the only things worse than devils: your fellow human beings.

It was no wonder you didn’t sleep most nights. It was no wonder that you snuck out of bed most of those nights to read books until you nodded off, or to play some stupid game, or even to go out at three in the morning to take a lap around New New Home because _anything_ was better than being inside, surrounded by your closest friends but feeling completely alone with your worst thoughts.

But the longer it went on, the more it weighed on your shoulders. It was agonizing, and it drained you, and there was only so much more of it you would be able to take before you were reduced to a lifeless husk.

And yet... and yet, in spite of that, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Frisk or Asriel for help. Frisk had already burdened themselves with saving the entire world, twice over, and you felt undeserving of putting your problems on their shoulders too. And Asriel was... well, it was complicated. In terms far too simple, you loved Asriel with a fire that burned brighter than for any other living thing, not even Frisk, so you childishly didn’t want to worry him. But he was also dealing with a tremendous guilt, a massive hollow gulf inside his soul, that you had no business making any worse.

Out of sheer desperation, you considered the rest of your makeshift family. You dismissed Toriel and Asgore right away - they both each still treated you as their _de facto_ child, even though you had never been remotely comfortable with that idea, and the idea of talking with them about this was too awkward. You dismissed Papyrus, because you doubted that jolly bag of bones had any expertise in the subject, and you dismissed Sans, because you _knew_ he was depressed but that didn’t mean it was a conversation you wanted to have with _him._

You settled on Undyne. You had always liked Undyne. She played piano, your favorite instrument. She was strong and fierce and took no guff from anyone. She seemed invincible, unshakable, and everyone loved her and trusted her. Plus she was trans, like you, and a lesbian, which was definitely not like you but still a bonus point.

Yet when you actually sat down in Undyne’s apartment, with a glass of golden flower tea in your hands, you _still_ couldn’t say that you needed help. What an absurd irony. The words that hurt you came out of your mouth before you could even consciously think of them, and the words to help you wouldn’t come out at all.

Undyne waited patiently at the other side of the table, which you hated, and looked concerned, which you hated more, despite it being the reason you were _here._ But, most of all, you hated yourself, for being angry at Undyne, who was only trying to help.

 _Piece of shit,_ you thought, and you knew it was about yourself but you were very glad it wasn’t said out loud.

“Chara, I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t... look well,” she said at last, breaking the silence. “How're you sleeping?”

“Well, surprise, I’m not,” you said, with a sardonic, lazy roll of your shoulders. You pulled your gaze away from her, turning your attention to the _Against Me!_ poster on her wall and admiring her good taste in old-school punk rock bands. “And not at all. I can’t remember the last time I really slept. I must look like a raccoon.”

Undyne made an affirmative noise and scratched her cheek fin. You could feel her gaze on you, but it wasn’t as if it was piercing. It was a gentle, sympathetic gaze. But it just made you feel like a child, and enough years had passed that you could at least say you were not a child.

“What’s keeping you up?” she asked. “It’s not because you just can’t sleep. Something’s bugging you, right?”

You nod.

Firmly, she said, “Are you safe? Has anyone been messing with you?”

“If you’re asking if anyone’s hurting me, no,” you said, as casually as if this was an interview. Then, with a resigned sigh, you said, “Besides myself.”

You looked back at Undyne to see her staring at the cuts along your arms, and for a moment, she looked uncharacteristically nervous. You’re used to that reaction from people who see your scars, but it normally takes a lot to scare Undyne.

Sure enough, she recovered quickly. “Chara.”

“If you’re going to tell me to stop too, don’t bother,” you said. You didn’t say that you needed it too much to stop, because that sounds pathetic and desperate, and you didn’t say that you were doing it a lot less, because you doubted that’d make a difference to anyone.

Undyne shook her head. “Nah, that’s not it. I was going to say... why? If you came to see me, it must have got really bad, right? Did something happen?”

“You don’t get it,” you said, and it comes out more annoyed than you intend. You can hardly blame her for not being able to read your mind. “It’s not... I haven’t been cutting myself or anything. That’s not the problem.” You set the tea down, reached up, and tapped the side of your head. “It’s here.”

Undyne nodded.

You dragged the words you needed to say out of yourself, kicking and screaming. “I _hate myself,_ Undyne. And I can’t take it anymore.” You force yourself to swallow. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can keep living like this.”

“Then... I know what you need to do.”

You blinked.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” she said, before looking away and scratching the back of her head. “Chara, I’ll be honest, I’m, uh, not the best at this kind of thing. I try to be there for Alphys, you know. I support her and encourage her and tell her she’s smart and beautiful and all that other stuff! But... uh, well. There’s only so much one girl can do, y’know?”

Hearing Undyne say that was hardly encouraging, and you frowned.

“But you know what _does_ help?” she said. “Someone who understands. Someone who’s been through a lot of the same things.” She smiles, not a grin but a soft, understanding smile. “Go see Alphys. Talk to her. I think she’ll get where you’re coming from.”

You considered that. Alphys hadn’t crossed your mind as the first person you wanted to speak to, because while you liked Alphys and knew that her struggles with depression and self-loathing could hardly even be called an open secret, you’d never thought of her as someone who could be your confidant and not just you, Frisk, and Asriel’s anime buddy.

But it made sense, so you nodded, finished the last of your tea, and stood up.

“Thank you, Undyne. I will.”

Undyne grinned.

“I’m rootin’ for ya, punk! You can beat this!”

* * *

_venaticorum: I’m coming over. Surprise :)_

_alphys: oh! ok! sure_

_alphys: did you want to watch something_

_venaticorum: Not this time_

_alphys: aww what! but i got this really cool new anime!_

_alphys: it’s about teen catgirl anthropomorphizations of knives that have philosophical debates over games of mahjong! it’s called go go neko neko naifu! i know you’ll love it!!! ^_^_

_venaticorum: Not going to lie, that does sound incredible_

_venaticorum: But actually, I need to talk_

_venaticorum: It’s serious._

_alphys: ok._

_alphys: did something happen?_

_venaticorum: No._

_alphys: ok. i’ll unlock the door, so just come on in_

_alphys: if anything did happen, dont be afraid to tell me. i’m here for you._

_alphys: we all are._

You looked down at the text messages as you stood in front of the door to Alphys’ lab. It was a little frustrating. Everyone treated you like a porcelain doll, even Alphys, who was supposed to _understand_. How were you supposed to explain to people that nothing had _happened,_ but something was _happening,_ and had been _happening_ for a long, long time? Why did everyone think this was a simple problem with a simple, obvious solution?

 _Ungrateful bitch,_ your brain said, and it almost came out of your mouth before you stamped it down.

 _Shut up,_ you thought at yourself.

You sighed, knocked on the door, and opened it. Alphys was sitting on the couch in front of her television, but the television was turned off. In spite of that, there was a bowl of popcorn and microwavable pizza rolls on the small TV table in front of her. She looked at you, smiled excitably, and waved her hand.

“What’s with the... food?” you asked, saying the word ‘food’ as if offended to even call popcorn and pizza rolls anything of the sort.

“I-I _know_ you said, um, n-n-no anime this time, but...” Her excited smile got a lot more nervous. “I find? Snacks??? Lighten the mood?????”

“I’ll pass,” you said, before walking over to her couch. You couldn't even be bothered to be your usual prim and proper self. You were too tired. So you flopped back onto it, stretched your arms out, and crossed your right leg over your other leg. It’s a completely petty act of rebellion, against good manners, but you decided to forgive yourself for being a little out of character.

Alphys looked at you, still looking very, very nervous. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, you thought. Alphys was an anxious wreck over ninety percent of the time - what made Undyne think she’d be the person you could confide in?

“C-C-Chara,” she said at last. “I... I don’t know what’s g-going on, or what you w-wanted to t-t-talk about. But...” She takes a deep breath. “I told you. I’m here for you. So whenever you’re ready to speak, I’ll listen.”

Rather than respond, you stared outwards at the blank screen. You had the thought that it was like you, in a way. A bright, shining screen, full of life and color, that had been shut off and now displayed nothing at all.

“Alphys,” you said finally, and you could almost see, in the reflection on the screen, Alphys scoot closer to hear. “I...” You pause. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to begin.”

You glanced at Alphys and saw her fidgeting with her claws.

“Just... just say anything,” she said. Her glasses slipped down and she adjusted them. “Don’t even look at me. Just say what’s on your mind. O-OK? And I... I won’t judge you. I won’t even say anything, n-not until you’re done. I promise.”

You took in a deep breath, through your nose. OK. OK. You needed help. You just needed to say it.

“Alphys...” you said softly. “I utterly despise myself.”

She said nothing, as promised. You stared into the empty void of the television screen and just talked.

“My whole life, I was told I was a demon. My parents called me that. My brother called me that. And the people of the village called me that. They could never decide on one reason why, so they went with multiple choice. Because I wasn’t born a boy or a girl. Because I didn’t _want_ to be a boy or a girl. Because I wrote with my left hand. Because I had red eyes. Because I was too strange, too _weird._ Because I didn’t fit in their safe, comfortable little boxes.”

You tried to keep from shaking as you remembered every detail, everything that you never once even told Asriel. That you hadn’t just started screaming is a miracle.

“So I gave up on trying to be nice, or kind, or cute, because it turns out, funnily enough, people still hit you just as hard either way. I became the demon they said I was. I robbed people, I threatened people, I stabbed people. I don’t know why I kept going... kept surviving. Part of me was hoping somebody would just kill me, because no matter how often I tried, I was always too much of a coward to do it myself. Another part of me thought people would be too scared of me to fuck with me... that if I became a demon, people wouldn’t hurt me anymore.”

Every word you said made your heart pound faster and faster. You felt the sweat rolling down your brow, down your back, and your pulse, feather-quick, in your own hands.

“It didn’t work.” You laughed. “Of course it didn’t fucking work. They became _worse._ They didn’t go far enough to kill me, oh, no. They just beat the shit out of me until I couldn’t stand and stole whatever food I could find.” You felt your breaths coming fast. Your throat felt dry. “Whatever way they could find to hurt me, they would. And... and everyone else just stood by and watched, while they all called me...”

You raised a hand to your mouth as if you were going to throw up. You actually thought you might.

“Horrible, horrible things. Not just a demon. So much worse than that.”

You couldn’t speak any more. You tried, but no words came out.

After a moment, Alphys scooted closer to you. Without saying anything, she wrapped her arm around you and patted your back.

“Chara, I... I can’t even imagine what that was like. _Nobody_ should have to go through that. _Nobody_ deserves that.”

“That’s just it,” you said, without looking at her. “I did. They were all right. I _am_ a demon. I hurt people. I manipulated people. I’ve even tried to kill people.” You laughed again, a high-pitched, uneven laugh. “No, no, I _did_ kill someone. I killed _Asriel._ He died _because of me._ Everything that happened with Toriel and Asgore was _my fault._ Every death of the children Asgore killed is blood on _my hands._ I don’t deserve this body. I don’t deserve Frisk. I don’t deserve Asriel.”

You ball your hands into tight fists.

“I don’t deserve a happy ending.”

You felt a clawed hand grab you on the cheek, and then your head being turned to face Alphys, and then another clawed hand on your other cheek. The two hands pressed your face together.

“Mmmrphmhhm,” you said.

“Chara, look at me,” Alphys said, as if you had any other choice. She stared at you with an intensity completely different from anything you’d seen on her face before. “You and me? We’re the same.”

You didn’t bother trying to reply, because it was clear Alphys wasn’t going to let you.

“I don’t have to tell you, right? I’ve always felt like a failure. A stupid, useless fraud. And that was even before I made the Amalgamates. Before I made... Flowey. Then I didn’t feel like a fraud or a failure anymore. Those words were too good for me. You know what I called myself?”

You shook your head, or tried to.

“Garbage. I was nothing more than the trash in a dump.”

She dropped her gaze, and her voice became quieter.

“I tried to kill myself. If Undyne hadn’t been there to stop me, I... I don’t think I would be here. But Undyne saving me didn’t make the hatred of myself go away. I still thought I didn’t deserve forgiveness. That I didn’t deserve Undyne. That I didn’t deserve to even be alive. And, even after everything, I still think that way... that I’m garbage. Undyne would never say it, but... sometimes, I think she’s afraid one day she won’t be there to save me. That she’ll lose me.”

She looked back up, her voice returning to its passionate intensity.

“But! I would never do that to her! Because she’s my wife! Because I have friends who love me! Because I deserve to be happy! Because I have _anime to watch!!!”_

She let go of your cheeks, and you let out a relieved breath for about one second before she launched forward and pulled you into a tight, Undyne-worthy hug.

“And, Chara, you... you have all those things too.”

“...Even the anime?” you said.

“Even the anime.” She squeezed you harder, knocking all the breath out of your lungs. “Chara... please don’t call yourself a demon, because you’re not one. All those people who hurt you... they’re long gone, and everyone you know now loves you. You deserve your friends, and they deserve you.”

Slowly, tentatively, you reached up and wrapped your arms around her. You had never been the hugging type, so you didn’t hug her very hard, but it was still a hug.

“You do deserve a happy ending,” Alphys said. “We both do.”

Somehow, that was what finally broke something in you. Your vision blurred, and you felt your eyes water, and then you were crying like you felt you hadn’t cried in over a millenia. You didn’t even know why, and you didn’t care. It just continued to come out in deep, loud, heaving sobs, and it kept going and going and going, and Alphys never let you go during it. She held onto you and let you cry until you couldn’t.

When you’d finally stopped, you found all your energy was completely gone, as if all the hours you hadn’t slept over the past years had finally caught up with you. Alphys must have realized that from the way you were laying against her, because she helped you lay down on the couch. As you felt your eyes droop and your head loll, she rushed off, but you were unconscious before she even got back.

When you awoke the next morning, there was a pillow under your head, a blanket over your body, and both a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of the kind of cereal Frisk liked but that you hated on the TV tray. There were also very cold pizza rolls and a bowl of stale popcorn.

Like a slightly late alarm clock, your brain realized you were awake and provided your daily morning slur.

 _Fuck off,_ you told it in response, which was at least better than nothing.

You felt your phone vibrate. Blearily, you took it out and saw that there were messages in your Harmony group chat.

_god_of_hyperdeath: chara, please answer. you didn’t come home last night and frisk and i are really worried. we tried calling and texting but we didn’t get any answer_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ 😟

You quickly type out a response.

_venaticorum: I’m at Alphys’ lab_

_venaticorum: Really, you two didn’t think to ask around? Undyne could have told you_

_god_of_hyperdeath: ...ok good point. we’ve been uh_

_god_of_hyperdeath: kind of panicking_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ 😨

_god_of_hyperdeath: but you’re our datefriend chara. you should let us know_

_god_of_hyperdeath: frisk agrees with me_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ 😔

_venaticorum: I’m really sorry_

_venaticorum: You know you both mean the world to me. I didn’t mean to make you worry_

_god_of_hyperdeath: i know. thank you_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ 👍🏿

 _at_risk_of_frisk:_ 🦎 ❓

_god_of_hyperdeath: er yeah why did you go to alphys’ lab without telling us anyway?_

_god_of_hyperdeath: if she wants to watch anime she usually invites all of us_

_god_of_hyperdeath: is something wrong?_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ 🤔

_venaticorum: Yes._

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ ❗

_venaticorum: Sort of._

_venaticorum: Don’t freak out_

_god_of_hyperdeath: you telling me not to freak out makes me freak out more!_

_god_of_hyperdeath: please talk to me, chara_

_god_of_hyperdeath: before i have another panic attack_

_venaticorum: It’d be better if I talked to you at home_

_venaticorum: You can make me a nice breakfast so I don’t have to eat Alphys’ soggy cereal_

_god_of_hyperdeath: ok. so you’re not hurt?_

_venaticorum: No. Don’t worry_

_venaticorum: I love you. Both of you_

_venaticorum: I’ll see you soon_

_god_of_hyperdeath: i love you too_

_at_risk_of_frisk:_ ❤❤❤

* * *

“...And that’s why I saw Alphys,” you finished saying, your chair turned away from your half-finished breakfast, eggs and bacon in the shape of a smiley face. “Because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You expected Frisk and Asriel, Asriel especially, to be upset. Everything you had just told him was what you kept secret from him his entire life - the reason you hated, and would forever hate, humanity. The scars on the inside of you.

Neither one of them were. Instead, wordlessly as always, Frisk stepped forward and gently placed their large, dark brown hand over yours. They didn’t squeeze your hand or apply any pressure. They just let it rest there, because they knew that meant more to you. Asriel followed suit, placing his large, nearly Asgore-sized paw on your other hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said. “You... you both deal with so much as it is. I didn’t want to upset you. It didn’t feel fair.”

“Chara,” Asriel said, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. “Why would we be upset? We love you. If you’re hurt, we want to be there for you.”

Frisk looked over at Asriel, and then took a step back, taking their hand off yours.

 _Chara. The truth is I feel the same way you do,_ they signed. _I tell myself I don’t deserve to live. And I call myself horrible words too._

“You do?” you said, surprised. Frisk always seemed to be the least troubled of your trio - it’s almost easy to forget, even after you shared a mind, that Frisk attempted suicide the same way you did. That they must have struggled, must still struggle, with the same sense that they didn’t deserve a life.

Frisk nodded. Out loud, they said, "I call myself..."

And said a word that you don’t care to repeat.

“Well, fuck everyone who ever called you that,” you said. “You don’t deserve to be called anything like that. And you _do_ deserve to live, so don’t ever tell yourself otherwise.”

Frisk smiled.

“I...” Asriel started to say. He took a deep breath, before continuing, “I call myself a murderer. U-usually just in my head, but... sometimes out loud too. And... and sometimes, I... I want... I want everything to just... end. I want to go to bed and not wake up.”

You didn't know what to say to that. Even if you didn’t feel like a murderer yourself, what would you even say? That he’s not one, because technically, the timelines where he killed people no longer exist? That wouldn't wash away the dust he knows he spilled.

You settle for something your therapist told you. “You’re not the worst thing you’ve ever done. You’re still the same person who saved those humans back then. You’re still good.”

Asriel just nods, and you know he’s not convinced, but you’ll keep telling him, for as long as it takes.

 _What we’re both trying to say is,_ Frisk signs. _We understand you._

“And we want to help you,” Asriel agrees. “So don’t be scared to reach out to us. We’ll all support each other.”

 _You deserve to be happy, Chara,_ Frisk signs.

“You deserve to be loved,” Asriel says.

You feel yourself starting to cry again, and before the tears can spill down your cheeks, you say the only words you can manage to say: “Thank you.”

* * *

Nothing is ever fixed overnight.

Even after you had finally told Asriel and Frisk about the impulsive thoughts, the self-loathing, the words full of hatred you directed at yourself every single day... none of those things went away. At least, not completely. You started to, when you thought about your past, tell yourself everything Alphys had told you - that you deserved your friends, and your life, and your happy ending. And it at least helped to keep the jar buried, even late in the night.

Frisk and Asriel, for their part, were the most supportive partners you could have ever asked for. You still worried you were burdening them, but... they were always there for you. They were your rocks in a tumultuous, infinite ocean. And they understood you, in a way even Alphys didn’t.

Just knowing that they were there for you, that you could talk to them, that they supported you and emphasized with you, meant more than you could ever express in words.

And there was always Alphys and Undyne. Undyne offered to teach you how to play piano, which you’d learned as a child but had become very rusty at. She didn’t say it, but you knew it was to distract you from yourself, and you appreciated the gesture and looked forward to every lesson.

And now, even beyond your weekly visits with Frisk and Asriel to watch anime and stuff yourselves on junk food, Alphys regularly checked up on you to see how you were doing. She offered an ear (figuratively speaking) and you kept her up to date about both the highs and the lows - the progress you were making and the times you felt like you’d never make any again.

Nothing is ever fixed overnight.

But, for the first time, you started to feel that, one day, recovery would be possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friends for helping me with this fic, and more importantly, for being there for me when I needed it the most.


End file.
